


Growth

by youcouldmakealife



Series: Impaired Judgment (and other excuses) [27]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 02:03:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14582499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: “My boyfriend,” Jared says. “Is just — ridiculous.”“Well,” Raf says. “I already knew that.”





	Growth

The only good thing about hitting the road again is that they’re heading to Lethbridge. Jared would honestly rather be at home, especially since Bryce just got back, but like, if he had to be anywhere, Lethbridge isn’t bad, just because after the game he’ll get to see Raf, and hopefully get a free smoothie to boot. Jared doesn’t even like smoothies that much — he prefers fruit in actual fruit form — but if that means the Hitmen’s win streak remains unmolested, Jared will drink that smoothie with glee.

Jared hates the Lethbridge Hurricanes. What kind of team names themselves after a weather pattern that doesn’t even _happen_ in Alberta. Are they _aware_ they’re in the fucking prairies? It’d be like the Dallas Wild renaming themselves the Blizzards or something.

Also, smoothies. Smoothies are stupid. And expensive. Why is a freaking drink over six bucks? 

“Stupid expensive smoothie,” Jared mumbles.

“You don’t actually have to buy me a smoothie,” Raf says. “I—”

“What flavour, Sanchez?” Jared asks.

“I—” Raf says. “You don’t—”

“Don’t make me get you the chocolate one,” Jared says. Anyone else, that wouldn’t be a threat but a promise, but Raf quickly requests one with some ridiculous combo of acai and freaking whey protein. Jared soothes himself by getting a chocolate banana one himself. Is it more of a milkshake than a smoothie? Yeah, probably, but he just lost, so whatever. It’s got a banana in it, and it’s frozen yogurt, not ice cream, so he figures it’s fair game.

Man, Jared could go for a milkshake right now. He sucks sulkily on the straw of his fake milkshake.

“Sorry we won?” Raf says. From anyone else it’d be like, mocking, but Raf makes it sound practically genuine, like obviously he isn’t _sorry_ he won, but he’s sorry his winning meant Jared’s team lost. What a dude.

“I guess we had to lose eventually,” Jared says, and Raf snorts. It’s weird, because obviously they did — even the winningest NHL team of all time lost eight games, and tied twelve more — but when you’re in the middle of a win streak you don’t think of that shit, the way it inevitably has to end, you just ride it as long as it lasts. 

“How’re things other than losing?” Raf asks.

“Ouch,” Jared says.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Raf says. “Are you and Marcus still—”

It’s thankfully deserted except for the bored looking girl behind the counter, because apparently no one goes for smoothies at eight pm in three degree weather. She isn’t even in earshot, and Jared’s grateful he can talk about Bryce with someone who knows he’s Jared’s boyfriend, can talk about his boyfriend with someone who knows said boyfriend is Bryce. Like, his family knows, yeah, but it’s not like Jared’s going to be talking about his relationship with Erin or his mom, or like, god forbid, his dad.

“Yeah,” Jared says. “He met my parents yesterday.”

“Didn’t go well?” Raf asks.

“Why do you say that?” Jared asks.

“Because you said it, like, well,” Raf says. “Like it didn’t go well.”

“Oh,” Jared says. “Yeah, like. I dunno. My dad’s a total dick to him. He won’t even cheer a Flames goal if Bryce scores it, it’s fucking ridiculous.”

“Isn’t he the Flames’ top goal scorer right now?” Raf asks.

“Yup,” Jared says. 

“Guess he’s not cheering much,” Raf says.

“Nope,” Jared says.

“Is it the, like…dude thing?” Raf asks, looking all concerned on Jared’s behalf, which is sweet of him.

“Nah,” Jared says. “I mean, I don’t think so, I think if I brought someone my age that wasn’t like. I dunno. I don’t know if the fact he’s twenty one or, like, the arrests are the bigger deal.”

Raf admirably doesn’t react at all.

“So yeah, it sucked,” Jared says. “I’d ask you for advice about the whole parent thing but I feel like you won’t have any.”

“What’s that mean?” Raf asks, frowning.

“I mean, I can’t see your parents not liking Grace,” Jared says. At least as long as she didn’t kick _their_ asses in video games, and like, Jared’s never met the Sanchezs, but he doubts it’s something you generally do first thing with your son’s girlfriend, so.

“They do,” Raf says. “Her parents didn’t really like me much at first, though.”

“Wait, what?” Jared says. “Dude, if I brought you home my parents would like, cry happy tears.”

“Still have a girlfriend,” Raf says with a bit of a smile.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jared says. “I’m not planning on ditching Bryce any time soon, you’re safe. But seriously, they didn’t like you?”

“It wasn’t me, exactly,” Raf says. “Just that I played in The Dub.”

“ _She_ plays hockey,” Jared says.

“Yeah, but,” Raf says. “Her older sister dated a guy on the Hurricanes a few years back?”

“Cheated on her?” Jared asks, because that’s the likeliest thing. He tries really, really hard not to notice when Hitmen he knows have girlfriends back in Calgary start acting like they’re single the second they clear the city limits, but it’s more than a few of them. Mix together minor fame that gets a lot bigger in small towns, frequent travel, and a bunch of dudes who won’t say a word to your girlfriend because that’s not what a teammate does, and WHL players have a rep for a reason. 

Jared thinks it’s gross, as much the expectation the entire roster is supposed to collude in it with the guys as anything else, but he’s not stupid enough to call anyone out on it. That’s the kind of shit that fractures locker rooms.

“Oh yeah,” Raf says. “Repeatedly. She only found out because she had a friend in Red Deer who saw him making out with someone at a party.”

“Okay,” Jared says. “Fair enough, then. But you won them over with your winsome smile and everything, right?”

“You’re lucky Grace thinks it’s funny that you flirt with me,” Raf says.

“I’m not flirting, just stating obvious facts!” Jared says. 

“You called me a handsome devil _in front of her_ ,” Raf says.

“Obvious fact!” Jared says. “She even fist bumped me for my good taste!”

Raf laughs, and like, Jared didn’t know laughs could be bashful, but his is totally bashful. Jared still doesn’t know how a guy who plays as good as he does — like, probably going to go first round good, makes Jared weep with envy good — manages not to have a big head about, like, anything.

“You guys sticking around tonight?” Raf asks.

“Yeah, driving to Medicine Hat tomorrow,” Jared says. “Gotta be back at the hotel by ten, though. You wanna do something?”

“Want to go to Grace’s so she can kick your ass again?” Raf asks. 

“I mean, no,” Jared says. “But also…yeah, cool.”

Grace absolutely destroys him. Annihilates. Obliterates.

“Rematch?” she asks after, easy.

“My ego can’t take it,” Jared says, and hands the controller to Raf so he can share the pain.

His phone buzzes in his pocket for like the billionth time since the start of Jared’s humiliation, and Jared pulls it out.

 _text me back :(_ , is Bryce’s most recent text, after a bunch of complaints about the charity event he’s at.

 _Was busy getting my ass kicked by Raf’s gf in NHL 16_ , Jared texts back.

 _he has a gf? cool_ , Bryce texts back, and Jared laughs aloud, because he’s the most transparent person ever.

“What?” Raf asks.

“My boyfriend,” Jared says. “Is just — ridiculous.”

Grace doesn’t even bat an eye, even though Jared hadn’t mentioned Bryce when they first met, and he knows Raf wouldn’t have said anything without okaying it with him. Jared already liked her before, but he _definitely_ likes her now.

“Well,” Raf says. “I already knew that.”

“Hey,” Jared says, kicking out at his knee. 

“Dude,” Grace says. “Don’t touch the goods.”

“Don’t call me ‘the goods’,” Raf complains.

“Don’t touch my goods,” Grace says.

“Well,” Raf says, then just sort of beams at her.

“You guys are gross,” Jared says.

“You don’t get to talk,” Raf says. “At all.”

“Pft,” Jared says. “We’re not even close to as bad.”

“Wanna go for a ride?” Raf asks, and then laughs when Jared goes red. “And trust me, he was just as bad.”

“Well,” Jared says, then, thinking about his sad face that Jared didn’t respond to his texts for all of twenty minutes. “Okay, fair. But I have dignity, at least.”

“Are you saying we don’t have dignity?” Grace asks, and Jared is…maybe a little scared of her, so he backtracks as quick as possible, even if backtracking is throwing Bryce under the bus and saying he was just talking about his boyfriend. And like, to be fair, Bryce sent a sad face because Jared didn’t text him back immediately. He totally has zero dignity. 

Jared loves him a lot.

Grace’s mom drives him to the hotel, even though Jared protests he can cab it. She seems nice, asking about his season and all that, no anti-hockey player grudge he can see, but maybe it only comes up if you date one of her daughters. Or, just as likely, Raf has completely won a victory for all WHL players in their eyes by being the nicest dude alive.

Tristyn’s not in the room when Jared gets back, and since it’s right on the edge of curfew he’s assuming someone else’s room. They’ve got a different ‘be at the hotel or we’ll kill you’ curfew versus a ‘you fuckers better be snoring’ curfew, since no one’s expecting a bunch of sixteen to twenty year olds to be snoozing at ten, early bus ride or not. 

_You’re here right?_ Jared texts Tristyn, because he doesn’t want to lie for him if anyone comes around asking.

 _cod champ in the making!!!!_ Tristyn texts back, and Jared guesses that means yes. Also probably that he’ll be out for awhile — those gaming tourneys have gone stupidly late, like Coach banging on the door at two in the morning and promising to bag skate them tomorrow if they don’t go the fuck to bed late.

Considering he doesn’t actually know how long Tristyn’s going to be out it’s probably a stupid idea, but Jared goes and hangs the chain so Tristyn can’t barge in — he’d just assume Jared used it as a last defence to jerk off in privacy, which won’t be _wrong_ exactly — and texts Bryce with a _You home?_ , because considering how much he was bitching about the event, Jared doubts he lingered.

 _ya_ , Bryce texts back immediately.

 _Come on Skype?_ Jared texts.

 _roommate?_ Bryce texts.

 _Not here!_ Jared texts back, which finally gets Bryce on Skype, though his first comment is a cagey, “Where’s the sleep talker?”

“He’s like, in the middle of a video game championship thing the guys do,” Jared says.

“Ooh, what video game?” Bryce asks.

“Focus, Marcus,” Jared says.

“Focus?” Bryce asks.

“Pants off,” Jared says.

“But—” Bryce says. “Roommate?”

“I put the chain on,” Jared says. “We’re good. Pants off.”

“You’re bossy,” Bryce says, but like, happily.

They cut it close — Jared’s washing his hands in the bathroom when Tristyn comes in — unimpeded, because Jared thankfully remembered to take the chain off when he got out of bed. 

“Champ champ champ!” Tristyn says, arms above his head, and grins at Jared when he applauds, so Jared guesses he didn’t sense the sarcasm in it. Such an under-appreciated art, sarcastic applause.

Jared sleeps uninterrupted, having finally — kind of embarrassingly belatedly, honestly — realised headphones and instrumental music are a pretty effective defence against sleep talking, even if he risks being strangled in the night. He has a good night’s sleep, and a good breakfast, and realises, as they pile on the on the bus to head to Medicine Hat, that he hasn’t sulked about the loss even a little, at least not after he reluctantly handed over a winner’s smoothie to Raf. That’s weird. 

Jared’s not going to lie to himself: he’s a sore loser. Doesn’t matter if it’s a scrimmage or Uno or a hockey game early in the season that kills a beautiful win streak. He sulks. He’s not proud of it, but he does.

 _You’re growing as a person, Matheson_ , Jared thinks, and mentally pats himself on the back.

“Why’re you so happy,” Chaz mutters as Jared cheerfully pulls out his history textbook. “We fucking lost last night.”

“I’m growing as a person,” Jared informs him.

“Well stop,” Chaz says, bundling his hoodie against the window and curling up in his seat, at least as much as a 6’3” dude can. So. Not much.

“You know,” Jared says. “Dwelling on yesterday isn’t going help us win tonight.”

“Ugh, shut _up_ ,” Chaz groans, and wraps his hoodie around his head to sulk more.

 _Waste of time_ , Jared thinks, and flips to the chapter they’re covering in school this week.


End file.
